


falling in love

by treebreaks (bluedreaming)



Category: UNIQ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/treebreaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is made up up moments, from the way we collide to the way we both say and don't say the things that need to be said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [XJ ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com) on tumblr.
> 
> The title is from the song [Falling in Love](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPFzE0yU70o) by UNIQ.
> 
>  _You can listen to the complete playlist for this story:_ [Apple Music](https://itunes.apple.com/ca/playlist/falling-in-love/idpl.779e925d7f3d47ec958a97591950b52a) • [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/haikui020593/playlist/7x1yYrbiavIDJ5jlK0u0xD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _That would be me,_ he thinks, the apple that he'd barely lifted to his lips, red light blinking, there's still enough time to cross the road, the countdown _three, two, one_ but sometimes life has other ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the prompt _beginning_ for the [XJ ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com) on tumblr.
> 
> The title is from the song [Beginnings](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JHtv8ZqdnU) by Houses.

The world continues on, that's the thing. Even though everything has changed, everything has turned over and under and inside out and Sunjoo can feel his heart beating, ringing in his ears as he catches his breath, everything is the same

"Thank you," he says, his voice mostly air as the stranger pulls him to the curb. Sungjoo sees the crushed apple on the road, the juice running off to the edge of the road, the crushed pulp, split red skin, gravel in the pulp.

 _That would be me,_ he thinks, the apple that he'd barely lifted to his lips, red light blinking, there's still enough time to cross the road, the countdown _three, two, one_ but sometimes life has other ideas.

Sometimes the road you cross becomes the ferry man rowing you to the other side, your name written on stone, red petals fluttering down to the dirt, the shovel flinging earth into the air.

"Watch out!" Sungjoo had turned, wide-eyed, _too slow, too slow_ his eyes, turning, caught in the headlights, a rabbit on its way to road kill, but the warm hand on his wrist tearing him from the dark had changed endings to beginnings.

The truck had rushes by, the sickening crunch of the apple in his hand the only testimony to what had nearly happened. No one had noticed; no one notices now; traffic rushing past, pedestrians under umbrellas bobbing along, feet splashing in puddles, the hum of the city and the rain.

"Are you alright?" the stranger says, his forehead furrowed in concern, and Sungjoo opens his mouth to say _yes, of course_ , because that's just how things are, the world moves on, you die a thousand times after you leave the safe confines of your bed, until you reach it again, slip back between clean sheets and dream of the deaths you didn't die, until one day you die for keeps.

"No," he says, and the admission feels raw in his mouth, a private confession blurted out to the crowd, he's bared his chest to someone he doesn't know, admitted he's vulnerable.

_You're not supposed to show the wolves, the world, that you're scared. The world is a vicious place._

Sungjoo blinks, swallows, gathers a smile up to plaster onto his face—it was just a momentary lapse, just a blip in the radar of life, because life moves on, people walk past the beggars on the street, eyes skim past the headlines of _death, death, death_ —every earthquake is private—he takes a breath and opens his mouth—

"That was pretty scary," the stranger laughs, but he sounds a little shaken too, his breathing just a little heavy, and Sungjoo realizes, _maybe it's okay to stop for a moment, take a breath, admit you can't move on just yet_ ,

"Do you have time to grab a coffee or something?" he asks, and the smile on his face is only the faintest flicker but it's real this time. "I feel like I need to catch my breath."

The stranger hesitates a moment before nodding. "Yeah, actually, I think I need that." He gestures to a coffee shop just back a few buildings down, "Is over there okay?"

Sungjoo nods. "I don't think I can walk any further right now," he admits, "My legs are still a little shaky." The stranger smiles back at him, walking side by side, pushing into the soothing hum of the coffee shop and the rich smell of coffee.

"Can I get you something?" Sungjoo asks at the counter.

"A latte," the stranger says, "I need the calories right now." Sungjoo nods, takes the buzzer and they make their way to a table tucked into the corner, hidden from the windows because neither of them feel like watching the cars rushing by on the road right now.

"I'm Sungjoo, by the way," Sungjoo says, reaching his hand across the table to shake the stranger's hand. "Thanks for saving my life." It feels good to say it, laid bare on the table between them.

"I'm Yixuan," the stranger, Yixuan, says, and his hand is warm, fingers soft against Sungjoo's skin. "And it was my pleasure."

The world is still moving, but it's on their terms now, sitting across from each other, tucked away in the corner of the coffee shop, warm gold light and the comforting clatter of cups in the background, as the buzzer vibrates and Sungjoo stands up to get their order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed the sonic (my first miss!) but this story would have been my response to [Timeless](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/400626.html).


	2. summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are still moments when he looks around and finds himself wondering, _what am I doing here?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from Calvin Harris' [Summer](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebXbLfLACGM).  
> Written for the [xuanjoo ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com).

_Does a place where you fit in actually exist?_ That's the question that's been hovering in Yixuan's thoughts for a while now. He left home for a another country, for school, and later work, and though it's been great, everything he imagined, there are still moments when he looks around and finds himself wondering, _what am I doing here?_

"Hey! Do you want to come play?" Yixuan looks up, Sungjoo is holding a beach ball, beckoning him towards the game, a net strung up on the beach, smiles and sand flying everywhere—usually Yixuan would be all for playing but he's just a little tired today, staying up late like last night has started to wear on him just a bit.

"Not yet!" he calls, waving. "You can still win without me." His wink, he knows, will only spur Sungjoo on, and it works, as they start playing again with renewed vigour, under the heat of the sun, the ocean glittering beyond the beach.

 _Summer._ Yixuan leans back under the striped beach umbrella, watches all the couples sitting on the beach, a guy rubbing sunscreen into his girlfriend's skin, a family making sandcastles, a group of teen girls eying the guys playing beach volleyball and the way they giggle to each other, ruffled bikinis and excited cheering when both sides score.

Sungjoo's team wins, of course, and he comes back grinning as Yixuan passes him a beer, high fives and a sloppy kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth.

"You're so sweaty," Yixuan laughs, making a face as he pokes Sungjoo's forehead, giving the rest of the guys a high five too as Seungyoun makes a face because he doesn't like losing, and Wenhan flicks him on the forehead.

"You're nice and cool," Sungjoo retorts, and that's all the warning Yixuan gets before Sungjoo plops himself down into his lap, leaning against his shoulder.

"Ouch!" Yixuan complains, but he doesn't mind, not really.

"You guys are so cheesy," Yibo complains, rolling his eyes as he grabs a popsicle.

"Just wait," Seungyoun sticks out his tongue from where he's plastered over Wenhan, and Yibo rolls his eyes.

"Forget it."

"I'm still hot," Sungjoo says, pressing the can of beer to his forehead.

"It's summer," Yixuan laughs. "Get used to it."

"What about water polo?" Wenhan asks, and there's an evil sparkle in his eyes, _Mr university swim team captain_ , but everyone nods anyway.

"Race you to the water!" Yibo shouts, popsicle wrapper fluttering to the ground as he takes off running and Seungyoun coughs at the sand his heels kick up before he's hot on the chase, feet pounding down to the shore, Wenhan only a beat away. Sungjoo laughs, reaches out to pick up the empty wrapper and put it in the garbage bag; Yixuan gathers up the empty beer cans and makes Sungjoo wait a moment, smothering him in sunscreen before they meander down to the water.

"You guys are so slow," Yibo complains; Seungyoun and Wenhan are too busy diving and grabbing each other's ankles to even care much and Sungjoo grabs the ball.

"How are we splitting up the teams?" he asks, but Yixuan has an arm around his shoulders before he's even finished asking the question.

"We're a team," he says firmly, nosing a line of kisses along Sungjoo's neck because he knows he's ticklish. Sure enough, Sungjoo curls up into a laughing mess and the ball slips out of his hand, where Wenhan emerges from the water to scoop it up.

"You and Sungjoo against Seungyoun and I?" he asks, and then grins at Yibo's loud protests.

"Rock paper scissors, loser gets Yibo?" Yixuan laughs, winking, and Sungjoo elbows him in the ribs.

"WInner gets Yibo, okay?' he says and swims over to pat Yibo on the head.

"You guys suck," Yibo protests, but he's laughing anyway when Wenhan wins with rock to Yixuan's scissors, and Sungjoo, pouting, releases him to Seungyoun's team.

Yixuan grins. _I belong here, with you,_ he thinks, Sungjoo's fingers trailing through the water to tangle with his. _It's a perfect fit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted for [sonic shiritori](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/405136.html).


	3. tremble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm still sorry you had to come over," he rasps, voice raw from coughing as he blinks, presses his closed eyes to Yixuan's shoulder. "I don't want you to get sick too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from Boreal Sons' [Tremble](https://borealsons.bandcamp.com/track/tremble).  
> Written for the [xuanjoo ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com/).

"You," Yixuan whispers into Sungjoo's ear, warm breath tickling his ear, the feeling sending shivers down his spin as he raises his fingers, softly, tentatively to Yixuan's hair, "you are everything to me." His voice wraps around Sungjoo, like the warmth of his arms, skin touching skin, and Sungjoo can't help but sniffle, blinking the wet out of his eyes.

"I'm still sorry you had to come over," he rasps, voice raw from coughing as he blinks, presses his closed eyes to Yixuan's shoulder. "I don't want you to get sick too."

"Nonsense," Yixuan says, pressing a kiss to Sungjoo's hair. "Of course I want to take care of you."

They lie like that together, curled up in the sheets, and Sungjoo drifts asleep to the sound of Yixuan breathing softly in time with his heartbeat, a soothing _whoosh whoosh_ of air and _thump thump_ beneath his fingers, slightly spread on Yixuan's chest.

 

The sky is pink, birds singing outside the window when Sungjoo cracks open his eyes, takes a deep breath as the air in his lungs catches—smooth for a moment before he starts coughing again, a kind of persistent _hack hack hack_ as he tries and fails to dislodge the fluid stuck in his throat, trying to smother the sound in the sheets and failing as Yixuan stirs, groans faintly before rolling to a sitting position as he takes in his surroundings.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and Sungjoo wants to answer yes but he's too busy coughing, eyes streaming; Yixuan just slips over and starts to gently pound at his back, dislodging the mucous as Sungjoo coughs up a wad of ugly disgusting muck into a tissue and finally, blessedly, takes a deep breath of fresh air, slumping slightly into Yixuan's arms.

"I'm sorry for waking you," he rasps, eyes blinking shut. _I'm so tired._

"Don't apologize," Yixuan scolds, though he's the furthest from angry, and collects the tissue from Sungjoo's hand to toss it into the wastepaper basket before reaching for the water bottle by the bed.

"Do you want some water?" he asks, and Sungjoo nods, taking the bottle after Yixuan uncaps it and lifting it to his lips. "I'll just be a moment," Yixuan says, slipping off the bed and padding out to the kitchen, feet in Sungjoo's slippers. Sungjoo leans against the pillows, tipping the water down his throat until the bottle is empty. His throat feels raw, the water only a temporary balm, and it bursts back into flames as soon as the water is all gone.

He's just about to get up, look for anything to take the edge back, when Yixuan is back with a bowl of what smells like—

"porridge?" he asks, and winces as the words grate over his throat. Yixian nods, passing him the bowl and a spoon and Sungjoo just sits with the bowl in his lap and breathes in the smell.

"Don't you like it?" Yixuan asks, slightly worry creasing his forehead, and Sungjoo is quick to shake his head.

"No," he whispers, and even though talking hurts he needs to explain, "It's been a long time." He smiles, lifting the spoon of porridge to his mouth, letting the rice and abalone slip over his tongue. _Perfect._

Yixuan relaxes into a grin, reaching forward to ruffle his fingers through Sungjoo's extreme bed hair before heading back to the kitchen, and Sungjoo can hear the water running in the sink as Yixuan washes the dishes.

 _You're everything to me too,_ he thinks, taking another bite and waiting for Yixuan to be done so he can crawl back into bed and wrap his arms around him.

 

Sungjoo drifts to sleep in a tangle of sheets and Yixuan, his head nestled on Yixuan's arm, and even though his throat hurts and he doesn't like being sick, not one little bit, his heart feels so full that it almost makes up for everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted for [sonic shiritori](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/405341.html).


	4. diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's cold today, the air crisp and and the sun bright in the clear sky; the light falling on the snow glitters like diamonds, and Yixuan feels a sudden rush of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Max Barskih's [cover](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AqRFtywmL7U) of Rihanna's [Diamonds](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWA2pjMjpBs)  
> Written for the [xuanjoo ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com/).

"We've clearly missed it," Yixuan sighs, looking at the timetable of the bus. There's no mistaking it. The scheduled departure time says _09:00_ and the digital display on the shelter says _09:02_ in red dots on black, like the alarm clock blinking this morning, flashing the wrong time because the power had obviously flickered just enough to reset the time and the alarm he'd set.

"The next bus is at 10:00," Sungjoo grimaces, peering at the timetable. Yixuan frowns. They'd wanted to go the park at the other end of the city, where the snow drifts are high and perfect for making snow forts; Sungjoo had been talking about it for weeks already and today had been the first day their schedules aligned.

"That's okay," Yixuan says, smiling, even though he's disappointed. The air is cold here, their breath crystallizing, tiny crystals of snow freezing for a moment before they fade. Sungjoo's cheeks are already red from the cold, even though he's wearing a thick tartan scarf and red ear muffs; Yixuan can't help thinking he looks adorable with the way his eyes glitter in the cold as he reaches out to poke Sungjoo's nose.

"What was that for?" Sungjoo says, wrinkling his nose, but he doesn't sound annoyed. Yixuan is glad the Sungjoo doesn't seem to be nearly disappointed as he is. _Maybe it's okay to just spend time together._

"You're cute," Yixuan says, and leans forward to press a kiss to the tip of Sungjoo's nose.

"Stop it," Sungjoo says, batting his arm, but he's grinning.

"There's snow here," Yixuan says, looking around the shelter and the small grassy area between roads. "We could build a mini snowman." 

"I bet mine will look better than yours," Sungjoo says, and scoops together a small pile of snow with mittened hands, rolling the ball across the lawn and collecting snow as he goes; Yixuan watches as the ball gets bigger and starts his own. Soon there are two little snow men standing side by side next to the bus shelter, with pebbles for eyes, noses and smiles, and tiny twigs for arms.

"Mine is cuter," Yixuan says, just so he can hear Sungjoo protest that it's absolutely not true, his nose bright red with the cold and breath coming out in gusts of white.

"Okay," he concedes, grinning, "yours is cuter." And it's true. It's cold today, the air crisp and and the sun bright in the clear sky; the light falling on the snow glitters like diamonds, and Yixuan feels a sudden rush of happiness.

"I'm cold," Sungjoo says suddenly, as though, now that the snowmen are completed, he's finally feeling the effects of the weather.

"You look half frozen," Yixuan laughs, slinging his arm around Sungjoo's shoulders. "Do you want some hot chocolate?" There's a coffee shop just across the street that he's been eyeing for a while now, smelling the chocolatey breeze that occasionally meanders across the road on an errant current of wind.

"Yes!" Sungjoo shouts, laughing at his own excitement, and half pulls Yixuan across the street when the pedestrian sign turns green, Yixuan glancing back and forth at the cars to make sure they're actually stopping.

The air in the coffee shop is like a warm blanket that surrounds them as soon as they cross the threshold, and Yixuan breathes in the delicious smells, his mouth watering.

"I think I worked up an appetite," Sungjoo grins, and picks out two slices of cake to go with their hot chocolate.

"I'm sorry we didn't make it to the park," Yixuan says, as he watches the 10:00 bus roll by the window where they're sitting, sipping hot chocolate; Sungjoo sputtering because he burnt his tongue.

"That doesn't matter," Sungjoo says, reaching over to poke Yixuan's nose this time, and it's Yixuan's turn to wrinkle his nose. "We had fun playing in the snow and now we're having fun drinking hot chocolate and eating cake." He grins, and Yixuan can't help but speak the words hovering on the tip of his tongue,

"I'm so glad you're here with me," he says, and Sungjoo sticks out his tongue.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted for [sonic shiritori](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/405776.html).


	5. look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I just want to see you_ , he types. _Even looking would be enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Sébastien Tellier's [Look](https://vimeo.com/10061302).  
> Written for the [xuanjoo ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com/).

At least for now, it's okay. Sungjoo is okay with the fact that they're both busy, they both have work and it's crunch time, sending fleeting messages at over lunch hour and snatching moments over coffee, but sometimes it doesn't feel like it's enough.

I miss you, his fingers type without him even realizing it, thumb pressing send before he has time to take it back, play his regrets to the tune of the backspace key.

The letters on his computer _click clack click clack_ and his finger hovers over the screen—his phone buzzes on the desk, and Sungjoo doesn't look at it, feeling bad in his bout of clinginess.

 _I'm not clingy. I'm not._ Even his subconscious doesn't believe him.

He sends another email, checks a spreadsheet, makes a phone call, the plastic headband of the headset digging into his scalp—

he relents, taps the screen of his phone to read the message.

I miss you too, Yixuan has written back, and Sungjoo feels the tension in his chest unwinding.

I just want to see you, he types. Even looking would be enough.

He presses send, bites his lips and sets his phone back down on the desk, the thump louder than he'd expected as he startles slightly, There's another email; Sungjoo gets distracted by work for a while, and only remembers to check his phone after several minutes have passed.

There's no answer, nothing, and he tries to quash the feeling of loneliness that swims up in his chest, leaving his phone on the desk when he goes to get another drink of water.

Nana is at the water cooler too, and they end up swapping useful tips about a problematic client so it's a few minutes before Sungjoo gets back to his desk, finger tapping the screen in a gesture that's more routine than hopeful.

Except there's a message waiting on the screen for him: Should I come over tonight?

Sungjoo almost drops his water; only quick reflexes save his keyboard from certain death. They'd agreed at the beginning of crunch time not to spend the night, because theyd didn't usually end up sleeping much, there was always too much else to do, Sungjoo blushed slightly at the thought, and things are crazy enough right now without being tired.

Are you sure? he types back, and goes back to his computer. It will be a while before Yixuan has time to respond.

Yes. is the answer waiting for him later, and Sungjoo can't help but smile at the happy relief bubbling up in his chest.

 

Yixuan is later than he predicted, showing up at almost midnight with heavy bags under his eyes and a bag slung over his arm,

"It's a change of clothes," he explains in response to Sungjoo's inquisitive glance, "so I can just head straight to work tomorrow without going home."

Yixuan looks exhausted and Sungjoo doesn't feel much better, but there's something about being with Yixuan that makes him feel whole again, like all the careening thoughts in his head can settle down, finally go to sleep.

"Is it," Yixuan begins, his voice a little hesitant, "is it okay if we just sleep?" He looks apologetic, but Sungjoo doesn't mind, wrapping his arms around Yixuan where they're standing in the hallway, resting his head on his shoulder and just breathing in the smell of his skin.

"That sounds perfect," he murmurs into Yixuan's shirt, and he can feel the last vestiges of tension drain from his muscles as Yixuan wraps his arms around him and holds him close.

"I feel better just looking at you," Yixuan whispers into Sungjoo's hair, and Sungjoo hums in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted for [sonic shiritori](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/406051.html).


	6. sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The sunset is so pretty," Sungjoo murmurs to himself, arms wrapped around his legs on the bench and chin resting on his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from [Sunset](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8tMhzftzl5I) by the xx.  
> Written for the [xuanjoo ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com/).

"We're not alone, there's always two of us," Sungjoo says suddenly, his words loud in the hushed silence just before sunset, the blue of the sky just beginning to glow. Yixuan turns to look at him, a little surprised.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asks, because he's not sure where Sungjoo is coming from. The late afternoon light, shining on Sungjoo's face, is turning his skin gold. He's beautiful. Yixuan doesn't want to look away.

"No!" Sungjoo says, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "I was just thinking, the other day. . ." he sounds thoughtful, his chin perched on his hands.

"Thinking about what?" Yixuan prompts, poking Sungjoo's face with a stick of celery before popping it in his own mouth. He's not really hungry anymore, the picnic table spread with the remains of their supper, but celery is celery.

"I was just thinking about stuff," Sungjoo says, "I can't remember what, it wasn't important. But I realized that I've started to think in 'we' instead of 'I'—" He holds up his fingers to make air quotation marks around the two words, and Yixuan smiles at the cute gesture. "Hey!" Sungjoo protests, taking advantage of his bottom lip. "I'm explaining!"

"I'm listening," Yixuan replies, waving him to continue with this explanation.

"Anyway," Sungjoo says, rolling his eyes so Yixuan flicks him on the forehead and Sungjoo glares back, "I think about what we're going for the weekend, or what we're going to do for the holidays, and it's just kind of. . ."

"Weird?" Yixuan offers, as Sungjoo searches for the word. 

"I was going to say 'nice'," Sungjoo retorts, "but if you insist."

"Nice sounds good," Yixuan agrees, and Sungjoo nods, snagging the last cluster of grapes and popping one in his mouth. The sun is properly setting now, and the light stains Yixuan's fingers red as he reaches for the last celery stick, crunching it between his teeth.

"The sunset is so pretty," Sungjoo murmurs to himself, arms wrapped around his legs on the bench and chin resting on his knees; Yixuan echoes his motion on the other bench but it feels odd, so he unfolds himself and gets up from the bench.

"Where are you going?" Sungjoo asks, looking up.

"Come on," Yixuan says, picking up the picnic blanket that they didn't end up using because there was a free picnic table, and spreading it on the grass before he sits down.

"What?" Sungjoo sighs, swinging his legs over to the side of the bench and standing up, stretching his arms out, and Yixuan reaches out to tug him by the hip, pulling him down to sit between his legs, back leaning against his chest. Sungjoo gets it right away, resting his head on Yixuan's shoulder and tangling their fingers together.

"Did you miss me already from the endless expanse between the benches?" Sungjoo jokes, and Yixuan elbows him.

"Ouch!"

"You were talking about being a 'we'," he says, "so I thought we should be a proper 'we' and watch the sunset together." He pulls Sungjoo even closer, warm even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and pressed his nose into the crook of Sungjoo's neck, just because he likes the sounds Sungjoo makes when he does it.

"I thought we were watching the sunset!" Sungjoo protests, and Yixuan just shrugs.

"I am watching the sunset," he says, and looks up at the sky to prove his point, where the clouds are tinged in orange, the upper part of the sky fading into gorgeous purples. "You're the one getting distracted."

"Because of you!" Sungjoo says, but he doesn't seem to mind, and they sit like that until the sun fades from the sky and stars glitter against the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted for [sonic shiritori](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/406492.html).


	7. letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's read the small stack of letters over and over and over again, all the days that Yixuan has been away, but he doesn't think he could ever get tired of reading them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from [Letters](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVHsJigJbCA) by Abel Korzeniowski for the W.E. soundtrack.  
> Written for the [xuanjoo ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com/).

He’s home, and that’s all that matters. Sunjoo smiles to himself, humming in the kitchen, making French toast even though he's not exactly sure how to make French toast, but it can't be hard, _just eggs and milk whisked together in a bowl, dip in the bread slices and cook them on a hot and greased pan until the egg is cooked and they're lovely and golden on both sides_ —Yixuan is sleeping in his bedroom, Sungjoo can hear his soft breaths if he stops moving, takes the pan off the flame and just listens.

Maybe it's just his imagination, but it doesn't matter. He knows that Yixuan is _here_ , is _home_ , and even if the sound of him breathing is really too quiet to make out from the kitchen, that's just a minor detail.

Sungjoo is quiet as he finishes up the French toast, and it was just as easy as he'd thought, _Martha Stewart can go suck it_ he thinks as he stacks them neatly in a casserole with a tiny stainless steel bowl of water, pops the lid on and slips it into the oven, temperature set to the lowest possible setting. Yixian just flew in and he's exhausted and probably jet-lagged and Sungjoo doesn't ever plan on waking him up; he's going to wake up when his body tells him its had enough sleep for once.

After he's done wiping the counter and washing the dishes, Sungjoo settles on the cough, tucking his legs up under the fleece blanket Yixuan keeps folded over the back just for cuddling like this, when Sungjoo is over to watch a movie but they end up kissing in the dark instead, the popcorn slipping to the ground. It's a little cold by himself, but Sungjoo doesn't mind, because Yixuan is home, sleeping in the next room. He tiptoes over to his back instead, and pulls out the stack of letters that he'd found waiting on his kitchen table after dropping Yixuan off at the airport, blinking back the wetness in his eyes and swallowing the lump in his throat long enough to wave cheerfully as Yixuan disappeared into the long line for security.

 _Letters_ ; they're kind of strange. No one sends letters anymore, everything is email and text and sns messages and snapshots on IG with smiles and video clips with dramatic background music. Sungjoo thinks about emojis, the fact that you don't even have to use words anymore.

He's read the small stack of letters over and over and over again, all the days that Yixuan has been away, but he doesn't think he could ever get tired of reading them.

_I know that you're sad that I'm going to be out of the country for a while and I know you'll be cheerful and smile and wave me off at the airport and then go home, angrily batting tears out of your eyes and I won't be there to wipe them away gently, which makes me sad. I know I can send you a message on kkt or whatsapp but we do that anyway and I wanted to do something extra special this time, so I thought I'd write you letters instead, like the letters my grandpa wrote my grandpa when he was away at sea, so even if you laugh I'm doing it anyway. . ._

Sungjoo hadn't laughed the first time he'd read them, holding the paper to his chest where it had crumpled beneath his fingers as he'd curled over, resting his wet eyes on his propped up knees, and he's not laughing now, even though his eyes are mostly dry this time. He just reads the words over again, though he's nearly memorized them by now, and it's like the mental equivalent of a hug, Yixuan murmuring into his ear even though he's sleeping in the other room.

Tucking the last folded piece of paper into its envelope, Sungjoo can't hold himself back any longer, even if Yixuan is so tired, even if he'd promised himself that he'd let him sleep as long as he needed, Sungjoo slips into Yixuan's bedroom, dim with the blinds pulled down, and slides between the covers next to his slumbering form, gently wrapping his arms around Yixuan's warm skin and pressing his nose to the nape of his neck.

Yixuan stirs then, not really awake, but conscious enough to mumble, "Where were you? I was waiting for you." He sighs softly, and Sungjoo just breathes in his familiar scent and drinks in the warm comfortable feeling of _home_.

"I'm here now," he whispers into Yixuan's skin, as his breathing evens out again and they both slip off into dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted for [sonic shiritori](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/409113.html)


	8. simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yixuan can't help wondering how things keep getting so complicated, when they're really so simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from [Simple](http://en.musicplayon.com/play-touch?v=966514) by K'naan.  
> Written for the [xuanjoo ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com/).

"You could do that," Sungjoo says, chuckling as he browses through the local community centre catalogue of courses being offered this season. Yixuan looks up from his phone, where he's glancing through work emails; sorting the general inquiries from the emails he needs to get back to right away. Wenhan has been on holiday for the past week, so things are especially hectic, and it's hard to take his mind off work, but he sets his phone down and peers at the paper.

"Finger painting?" he asks, expression sceptical. "Isn't that for, I don't know, three year olds?" He glances at the details under the header. Ages 3 to 7, parental accompaniment optional

Sungjoo just elbows him, "it sounds therapeutic!" he protests. "Don't think I haven't noticed how stressed you've been lately." And it's true. All of a sudden, Yixuan feels bad. It's not his fault, but he's been so tired lately, so busy, that it's all he can do to cope with the work piling up on his desk, the emails flooding into his mailbox, the phone calls and inquiries and dealing with frustrated customers and sometimes he's surprised he hasn't lost it completely, running down the hallway screaming instead of just taking a deep breath, stretching out his back and diving back in.

He's barely seen Sungjoo in the last month, only snatches and glances and sleepy phone calls as they fall asleep in separate beds; today is the first time in too long that they've had the chance to spend a few hours together and here he is, anxiously glancing at his emails again, while Sungjoo just smiles and tries to make him laugh, hint at how worried he is without pressuring Yixuan.

 _I don't deserve you_ , Yixuan thinks, not for the first time, looking at the bags under Sungjoo's eyes, contrasting with the smile on his face, eyes crinkling as he laughs at all the strange lessons being offered.

"Come over here," Yixuan says, and reaches over to pull a surprised Sungjoo into his lap; Sungjoo gives a surprised, "Oof," as he lands, fitting perfectly between Yixuan's legs. There's a muffled clatter as his phone falls to the ground, and Sungjoo starts to lean over to search for it, but Yixuan stops him with a kiss pressed to the nape of his neck, sighing as Sungjoo settles back into the curve of his arms, head resting against his shoulder.

"I've missed you," Sungjoo whispers, and Yixuan can't help wondering how things keep getting so complicated, when they're really so simple.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs into the warm hollow where Sungjoo's neck meets his chin, as his teeth nibble along the skin and Sungjoo melts into his arms, as though he's been so wound up, so tense, that a soft touch is enough to pull him apart.

"It's okay," Sungjoo says, his voice slightly breathy before he twists in Yixuan's lap, swinging his legs around until they're pressed, chest to chest and Sungjoo can wrap his arms around Yixuan and just hold him close.

_It's so simple._

There's a soft buzz from the floor; Yixuan getting another email probably, but he doesn't pay it any attention, lips warm as he works his way down Sungjoo's neck, drinking in the salt on his skin, the sound of his sighs. This is more important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted for [sonic shiritori](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/409485.html).


	9. formal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sungjoo swallows. Yixuan has always looked good in a suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from [Formal](https://open.spotify.com/track/4MHkqwHhONeOa6vmHkBWug) by Adam Black.  
> Written for the [xuanjoo ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com/).

“What are we going to do with all these leftover watermelon slices?” Yixuan is frowning at the remains of the buffet table, fruit on platters, cookies and cakes on trays, the massacred remains of a trifle in a bowl. Sungjoo hums.

"We could pack it all up and send it along to Yibo's dorm?" he suggests. It's a joke, but not really. Yibo just keeps growing; it's kind of crazy sometimes, even though he's far too old to still be growing, already on the second year of his undergrad, and his fellow dorm mates are no joke. Sungjoo still remembers the time he'd crashed in for an impromptu visit with two boxes of pepperoni pizza, extra cheese, only to turn around for a moment and look back to find that the pizzas had been completely devoured.

Yixuan looks thoughtful, tugging at the trailing end of the bowtie he's unready half unknotted, and Sungjoo swallows. Yixuan has always looked good in a suit, it's nothing new, but maybe it's the combination of everything going on today, the bachelor party for Wenhan and Seungyoun's wedding, the question that keeps popping up, every now and then, _why aren't we married yet?_ —Sungjoo tucks the thoughts away in his head, neatly, and instead walks determinedly around the table, rounding on an unsuspecting Yixuan, half eaten cream puff oozing bits of cream of his lips as he swallows, tongue trailing over his lips and—

Sungjoo rests his hands on Yixuan's shoulders and licks the cream off Yixuan's lips instead.

Yixuan blinks, startled, almost stepping back a step but Sungjoo holds him steady.

"But we still have to clean—" Yixuan beings to protest, eyes darting sideways to look at all the food, the pile of dirty dishes, but Sungjoo doesn't let him finish, capturing his bottom lip with his teeth before pressing his mouth to Yixuan's.

There's silence in the room for a long moment, everyone else has gone home and it's just Yixuan and Sungjoo in Sungjoo's apartment, only the faint music from the radio, distant traffic trickling in through the open window and the sound of them breathing as they break apart, noses touching.

Sungjoo's fingers pluck at the buttons on Yixuan's collar as Yixuan's fingers creep beneath his shirt, "Why did we make this a black collar event?" he complains, and Yixuan has the temerity to laugh, his breath warm on Sungjoo's cheek.

"I seem to remember it was your idea," he says, eyes sparkling with amusement as he suceeds in untucking Sungjoo's shirt.

"Well for future reference, it's a terrible idea," Sungjoo complains, as his fingers keep fumbling with Yixuan's collar, "and why are your buttons so hard to unbutton?" Yixuan just laughs, gently nudging Sungjoo's fingers out of the way.

"Let's get this cleaned up and then I promise I'll remove this shirt that offends you so much by myself for your enjoyment," he promises, grinning, and Sungjoo huffs but grabs the stack of take out containers anyway, sneaking a kiss on the side of Yixuan's mouth before he darts away to start packing up the cut fruit.

Yixuan retaliates by tossing a wadded up paper napkin at him and Sungjoo just sticks out his tongue, tempted to upend the remains of the punch over Yixuan's head, but then they'll never finish cleaning up, and as good as Yixuan looks in a suit, Sungjoo knows for a fact that he looks even better out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted for [sonic shiritori](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/409707.html).


	10. future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I thought this was what was supposed to happen next._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from [Future](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4oScRBsOV6I) by Paramore.  
> Written for the [xuanjoo ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com/).

"A very long time," Yixuan says, in response to the unspoken question in Sungjoo's eyes, the key sitting on his hand, outstretched between them. _How long have you had these, waiting?_

"I—" Sungjoo seems tongue-tied, and it's strange, not the fact that he's stumbling over his words because he does that sometimes, it's just a part of what makes him Sungjoo, but rather what's strange is the fact that he doesn't seem to know what to say at all.

Sungjoo always knows what to say.

"It. . .it doesn't have to mean anything," Yixuan says quietly, watching his fingers as they begin to curl up around the key by themselves, though he's not telling them to, it's just an automatic reaction, like raising a hand to your face to block the sun, or curling into yourself to avoid a blow.

He doesn't look at Sungjoo, because he might see an answer in his eyes and he's scared, suddenly, that he's read the timing wrong, that his very long time wasn't long enough, or conversely, that it was too long and Sungjoo has gotten tired of waiting and started to move on.

"I just wanted to give them to you," he says quietly, "that's all. But if you don't want. . ." His fingers close around the key, now hidden from view, shielded from the expectations that Yixuan had attached to it, as his hand slowly falls to his side.

The room is silent, not the comfortable silence that usually wraps around them, warm and friendly and full of the things they already know and don't need to put into words. Instead, all Yixuan can hear are doubts, as his eyes trace patterns in the grains of of the wood that makes up the floor. _I'm sorry. I thought this was. . .I thought this was what was supposed to happen next, but I see now that I was wrong._

He's so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't consciously process the sound until a few heartbeats after his ears first pick it up. It's not laughter, it's not—

"Why are you crying?" Yixuan asks, shocked, as he looks up to see the tears pooling in Sungjoo's eyes, as he blinks them back, the droplets clinging to his eyelashes, the way his nose is turning red and the sound of his sniffles, his hand reaching up to smear across his cheeks and nose—

"I'm happy, you jerk," Sungjoo says, and Yixuan doesn't understand until the words hit home and it feels like emotional whiplash, like he can't keep up, can't process what is happening right now, but his arms, his fingers, his body memory isn't caught up in the tangle of his emotions as he reaches forward, fingers touching Sungjoo's cheek, feeling the wetness beneath his fingertip. That's all it takes for Sungjoo to reach forward, wrapping his arms around Yixuan and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug that knocks the breath right out of him, but it's okay.

Everything is okay.

Yixuan's fingers curl around the blunt metal edges of the key clasped tightly in his hand and feels Sungjoo's heartbeat racing in counterpoint to his own, as they stand there, entangled, as their heartbeats align and fall into step. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted for [sonic shiritori](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/410110.html).


	11. promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are different kinds of promises, the ones you speak and the ones you live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from [Promises](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=llDikI2hTtk) by Nero.  
> Written for the [xuanjoo ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com/).

_

VI. finale

_

 

"Now kiss." And as the words are spoken, the wedding finally coming to a close—this whole stage in their life ending and another beginning as they'll walk out in a moment, hand in hand, the applause and smiles of their friends and family watching them—Sungjoo stares into Yixuan's eyes before he leans in, Yixuan meeting him halfway, and their lips touch in a silent promise.

_I'm here for you._

 

_

IV. after moving in together: part II

_

 

"Do you remember how we first met?"

They're sitting at the kitchen table, Yixuan's foot darting out to nudge at Sungjoo's ankle, and Sungjoo makes a face even though he doesn't mind, because there's something comfortable about the warmth, their ankles tangling under the table, the cotton knit of Yixuan's sock tickling the bare skin of his foot.

"Of course," Yixuan says, his expression dark at he glares at Sungjoo over the mess of papers scattering the surface of the table. "You almost got flattened by a truck!"

"It wasn't my fault," Sungjoo protests, but there's still a fluttering his chest, the adrenaline of realizing that it had almost been over, and then the tight grasp on his wrist, looking back at the stranger who'd just singlehandedly saved his life, and he'd been so scattered, so focused on the present and yet caught in the tangles of what might have been, and yet his thoughts had still managed to register, somewhere in the chaos, that the stranger staring at him with wide eyes was oh so handsome; he'd remembered it properly later, reliving the memory curled up in bed, and blushed then, in the privacy of the shadows of his own bedroom, secondhand embarrassment at something that he hadn't been able to react to at the time.

He still remembers the slip of paper with Yixuan's phone number on it, that had almost burned a hole in his pocket all the way home, as Yixuan had called after him,

"Be careful and look both ways when you cross the street!" Sungjoo had stepped off down the sidewalk, only to be stopped by a shout and Yixuan thrusting a slip of paper into the curl of his fingers around his palm— "Just send me a text when you get home safely, okay?" Sungjoo had stared at him, nonplussed, noticing with a growing curiosity the faint blush spreading across Yixuan's face as he'd muttered some that had sounded surprisingly like, "Or else I won't be able to sleep. . ."

"You took your own sweet time getting home too," Yixuan frowns over the recollection. "I honestly wondered if you'd gotten into an accident for real that time."

"What would you have done if I hadn't texted?" Sungjoo asks curiously, both because he wants to know but also because it's fun, sometimes, to poke at Yixuan and make a blush rise in his cheeks, perfect for rounding the table and pressing his lips to, which is what he does now, inching his chair around the wood surface until they're sitting side by side.

"I was seriously considering phoning the nearby hospitals to see if they'd admitted someone who looked like you," Yixuan mutters sheepishly, as Sungjoo presses a kiss to his cheek, and Yixian gives him a half-assed glare.

"You're so sweet," Sungjoo says, pulling back slightly to stare Yixuan in the face, tracing the curve of his eyebrows with his gaze, and Yixuan leans forward and surprised him with a kiss.

"You're not allowed to scare me like that anymore, ever," Yixuan says adamantly, and Sungjoo doesn't say anything, just leans over to rest his head on Yixuan's shoulder.

"I promise," he says, and he means it.

"Good," Yixian says, and his fingers reach over to tangle in Sungjoo's warm grasp.

 

_

II. moving in together

_

 

"One, two, three, lift!" It takes three people to carry Sungjoo's sofa into Yixuan's apartment, and Wenhan, Seungyoun and Yixuan are all sweating by the time it's safely deposited next to the window.

"What do you keep in your sofa?" Wenhan asks, mopping his forehead with a towel before tossing it to Seungyoun who scowls but flips it over and wipes his forehead and neck anyway. "Rocks?"

"I don't know what was wrong with my sofa anyway?" Yixuan grumbles, though he hadn't really put up much of a fuss when Sungjoo had mentioned he wanted to bring it along—they have too many memories caught up in the upholstery, secrets woven in the fabric and comfortable silences scattered between the cushions.

"It's my grandma's sofa," Sungjoo says, tossing Yixuan a beer; the rest of the six-pack he sends flying at Seungyoun who snatches it out of the air and portions out the bottles, leaving two for himself, though Sungjoo can see Yibo eyeing it. "It's solid wood and you can't get anything like it nowadays."

"It's solid wood?" Yibo says, eyebrows raised at he twists off the cap and chugs down half a bottle in one swallow. "No wonder it weighed a tonne."

"I just hope it's worth it," Wenhan says, flopping down onto the sofa, the others soon following.

"It definitely is," Sungjoo insists, as he perches on the arm and surveys the apartment. It's strange, after so many years of staying over at each other's apartments, he has a toothbrush in this apartment, red to Yixuan's yellow, and Yixuan has a toothbrush in his, or did anyway, before they decided to move in together, just another step along the path of their relationship.

"I can't believe I finally get to say this," Wenhan says, "But congratulations on finally moving in together!"

"Yeah, finally!" Seungyoun adds, rolling his eyes as he twirls the remains of the first bottle of beer in his fingers. "You've only been dating for like. . .years already."

"Well, not everyone is like you and Wenhan," Yixuan says, and he sounds. . .happy, Sungjoo decides. _It's okay to take our own time._

"Not everyone moves in on the second date and gets married after like three months, you mean," Yibo says, sticking his tongue out as Seungyoun turns around, raising the small square pillow threateningly, and Sungjoo moves forward to rescue his toss cushions. "If you were a girl, I'd have called a shotgun wedding." He darts out of the way as Seungyoun scrambled up to go after him, only to be stopped by Wenhan reaching out to snag his husband by the waist and pull him into his lap, where a soft kiss to the hollow between Seungyoun's neck and jaw distract him enough to keep the drama to a minimum, though Yixuan does reach out to rescue his wood floor and area rug from the nearly empty bottle of beer falling to the ground.

"Let's keep the PDA to a low rumble," Yixuan laughs, but Sungjoo knows he doesn't really mind. Wenhan and Seungyoun have always been like that, and it's okay that Yixuan and Sungjoo are a little more private. He thinks about the conversation they had last night, under the stars, and the rings sitting in a small velvet-lined box in their bureau drawer, and smiles.

When he looks up, Yixuan is smiling up at his from where he's sitting on the ground, leaning against the side of the sofa, and Sungjoo doesn't even stop to think about it, he just slips over to slide between Yixuan's legs and lean against his chest, resting his head on Yixuan's shoulder as he tangles their fingers together, one hand reaching out to drain the bottle of beer in Yixuan's hand.

These simple promises, skin on skin, a secret smile just for them, are the best ones.

 

_

I. before moving in together

_

 

Sungjoo is sitting on his bed, running a small silver key between his fingers, as the black cord it's attached to tangles and knots and finally the key is stuck, the cord a mass of woven black that swallows his skin. It's been a while since Yixuan gave him the key, but Sungjoo still remembers that moment, the way everything had stopped, gone quiet as soon as Yixuan had opened his hand.

It's not like they weren't already at each other's apartments all the time, but this had felt like something more, because sometimes Sungjoo wasn't quite sure where they stood in their relationship. It wasn't that he didn't trust Yixuan, and it wasn't that he was scared that they were going to break up, but when he'd watched Wenhan and Seungyoun walking down the aisle, matching suits and smiles, Sungjoo couldn't help wondering, _is that part of my future, our future?_

So a key was more than just a key, a key was like saying, _Here's a physical symbol of the fact that you're a permanent part of my life now,_ and Sungjoo had taken to wearing it on a cord around his neck, both because it was convenient, but also because it felt like a promise.

But now, as he watches the way it catches the light of the lamp, flickering silver and then fading in the darkness again, Sungjoo wonders if it's up to him to take the next step. It's not like he's waiting for Yixuan to make all the moves, they're not like that. It's more that Sungjoo is the kind of person who looks at things from all the angles, waits until it feels exactly right, and he knows Yixuan is like that too. In fact, the way they met is probably the one exception to Sungjoo's carefully thought out life, but when he thinks about it, imagines what might have happened if he hadn't been distracted and walked out into traffic, if Yixuan hadn't been there to pull him back to safety, if he hadn't suggested they have coffee, if Yixuan hadn't called him back to give him his number, if Sungjoo hadn't messaged . . .

There are too many maybes, and it's almost scary to think that, if he'd been more careful like he usually is, if Yixuan had been more careful as Sungjoo has learned, over the months and years they've spent together, that Yixuan likes to be, maybe they, Yixuan and Sungjoo, never would have happened.

It might be an _I_ instead of a _we_ , Sungjoo sitting here on his bed, the warm light of the lamp flickering over empty hands, and he tightens the grip of his fingers around the thin black cord, the blunt metal edges of the key, at the thought.

 _I'm going to ask him tomorrow,_ he thinks. _I'm going to ask him if we can move in together._

The key is a promise, but the best thing about promises is that you can make more of them, and Sungjoo is ready to promise something else, even though he already has, because there are different kinds of promises, the ones you speak and the ones you live.

 

_

III. after moving in together: part I

_

 

When Sungjoo wakes up, the warmth of sunlight flickering over his face, he's not confused because he's woken up like this so many times before, the fabric of Yixuan's sheets soft under skin, the warm spot next to him where Yixuan was sleeping until he woke up, the indentation in the pillow, but as Sungjoo blinks his eyes open, watching the shadows shifting on the wall, the silhouettes of airplanes and— _those are my model planes_ he realizes, his brain slowly picking up speed, gears whirring as he wakes up—Sungjoo sits in bed, pulling his legs under him, sheets crumpling and tangling with the thin cotton of his pyjama pants as he brings a hand up to rub his eyes and surveys the bedroom. His lamp is sitting on the nightstand. His clothes are thrown over a chair, that's nothing new, but it's his print of [L](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Las_Meninas#/media/File%3ALas_Meninas%2C_by_Diego_Vel%C3%A1zquez%2C_from_Prado_in_Google_Earth.jpg)as Meninas hanging on the wall.

As Sungjoo sits in bed, a warm breeze from the open window tickling his face, stirring the strands of his bed hair, his eyes wander towards the bedroom door, slightly ajar, and he can hear humming from somewhere in the apartment.

Sungjoo untangles himself from the sheets, bare feet slipping down to press onto the cool hardwood floor, and he pauses a moment, eyes still wandering the room— _that's my potted cactus_ he thinks, _my pile of unread books_ —before he slowly stands up, the thin cotton knit of his sleeveless sleep top ruching up as he pulls it down over the lines of his stomach absentmindedly with one hand, the other reaching out to nudge the bedroom door open as it swings silently open. His feet know the way, as Sungjoo walks along the hallway, the cloud of sleep slowly clearing from his head with each muffled footstep, bare feet on wood worn smooth by so many footsteps, racing towards the bedroom, lips meeting and parting and muffled giggles as fingers graze skin, shirts slipping to the ground, and now he's standing in the open archway, watching Yixian humming as he grinds coffee beans.

"Hi sleepy head," Yixuan says, not needing to turn his head to know that Sungjoo is standing in the doorway, and this isn't anything new, he's slept over countless times before, everything is the same and yet everything is different. There's a kind of warm glow opening up in Sungjoo's chest, a deep happiness that he can't put into words but feels, hovering on the tip of his tongue, tingling in the tips of his fingers, and his arms feel too empty all of a sudden, as he steps forward over the blue tiles of the kitchen floor to wrap his arms around Yixuan's waist, bury his face in the warm crook of Yixuan's next, nose grazing his shoulder as Sungjoo breathes in the scent of _home_.

And it's the knowledge that this is _us_ now, that he will always be able to do this—to wake up with Yixuan and go to sleep with Yixuan and be with Yixuan, even when they're not together all the time, because they don't have to be, they have their own jobs and interests and things they like to do and that's okay, but it's the fact that they're in this together now—is what puts the dampness in Sungjoo's eyes as he just stands there, wrapped around the warmth and comfortable solidity that is Yixuan, and just holds on for a bit.

"You okay there?" Yixuan asks; he doesn't sound worried, just like he's checking up on Sungjoo who's being a little more clingy than usual, the way he lets himself go when they're in private, and Sungjoo remembers when he was sick and Yixuan took care of him, even though he didn't have to.

"I love you," he mumbles into Yixuan's skin, a promise that he likes to repeat often, and Yixuan laughs sometimes that it's almost like Sungjoo thinks that it's like if he repeats it more often, it stays fresher. Sungjoo won't argue with that.

"I love you too," Yixuan replies, leaning his head down at an awkward angle so he can press a kiss to Sungjoo's forehead; he mostly misses, but it doesn't matter. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Sungjoo asks, grumbling slightly as he unwraps himself from Yixuan and hunts down a favourite coffee cup. All their cups are jumbled together in the cabinet now, and it will take a moment, but that's okay. Sungjoo grins as he pulls down the matching mugs Yibo got them as early housewarming gifts, two halves that together make a heart.

"Did you find the mugs?" Yixuan asks, as he presses down the filter on the French press, and Sungjoo holds them each out in turn for the coffee, before they each take a mug and sit across from each other at the table, wedding brochures and price quotes spread out on the table.

 _I promise_ , is written across the front of one of the papers, and Sungjoo smiles.

 

_

V. the wedding

_

 

"No pre-wedding jitters?" Wenhan asks, helping Sungjoo with his bowtie, and Sungjoo frowns. He doesn't have wedding jitters or cold feet or anything like that, but he feels so. . .so something, words can't explain the emotions flickering through his thoughts right now, something like anticipation and excitement strung to such tenseness that he's almost shaking.

"I'm so happy it hurts," he finally says, trying to go for a shrug but his shoulder jump instead and jar Wenhan's fingers so that the ends of the bow tie slip through his fingers and he frowns, starting over again.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks, and now there's concern in his eyes at he peers at Sungjoo, but Sungjoo just. . .

"I think I'm going to throw up," Sungjoo says, though he hadn't realized it before he said it, but he finds that it's suddenly true as he knocks Wenhan aside, the bow tie fluttering to the ground as he barely makes it to the toilet in the next room, slipping down to his knees so he can dry heave into the toilet, because he was too on edge to eat any breakfast.

"I'll call Yixuan," Wenhan says, just as Yibo peers around the door, boutonnière in hand.

"No, it's okay," Sungjoo says, and grins up at Wenhan, though it doesn't seem to help any as Wenhan's frown only deepens. "I'm really okay, I just need to. . .get married already."

"If you even make it to the altar," Yibo mumbles, and Sungjoo glares at him before wiping his mouth off with a tissue and gargling some mouthwash even though he didn't have anything to throw up.

"I'm fine," he says, taking a deep breath, and this time he means it. Wenhan manages to get the bow tie successfully sorted out this time, Yibo pins the boutonnière on, a white rose blossom against his black suit jacket, and then they're off to the wedding hall where Yixuan is probably already waiting, along with all their friends and family. It's a small, comfortable wedding, exactly like they wanted, and when Sungjoo walks in and sees Yixuan walking in from the other side, everything suddenly falls into place, like the missing puzzle piece of today's emotions.

Suddenly everything just makes sense, all the time they've spent together, their matching coffee cups in the cupboard, the sunsets they've watched and the stars they've wished on and all the times they've links hands, just like now as Sungjoo reaches forward to knot their fingers together.

"I promise to love you forever," he says, and Yixuan echoes his words back to him; it's not the first of the promises they've made to each other and it definitely won't be the last, just two promises in a long line of promises they'll make and keep, over and over and over again, together, which is the most important part.

 

_

fin

_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A portion of this chapter was originally posted for [sonic shiritori](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/412463.html).

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to read the other stories written for the [XJ ficfest](http://xjficfest.tumblr.com/nav) 2015!


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